Resident Closet Explorer
by Mini-Moony
Summary: People's perception is not always correct, but when Belladonna Vanderkay is constantly quoted as saying "Hogwarts isn't about classes and grades; it's about how much time you spend in a Broom Closet!", what are people expected to think of her.
1. Prologue: History's Home

Resident Closet Explorer

Prologue

History's Home

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry plays the setting to many stories from many eras. Tales of friendships, of everlasting loyalties, of victorious heroes, of vanquished enemies, and of the first buds of true, undying love. Most end happily while others end poorly. But what of those that are false happiness, full of empty promises and counterfeit relationships.

Under a lake, in a fifth year girl's dorm of that very school, there are four beds each baring a silver monogram. One, _RW_, is empty, looking hardly used with its curtains open wide and the duvet neatly in place. Another, _MG_, has a foot protruding through the curtains and is heavy with the sound of snoring slumber. The next, _MF_, with firmly drawn curtains, plays host to the frantic quill-scratching of teenage angst. The last bed, _BV_, holds a girl, her black spread over a pillow, and a silver bracelet.

Her bright hazel eyes, today appearing with more green specks in the honey colored background, held nothing but disdain for the shiny metal that hung daintily from her up-held arm. It was a simple flatten, curved plate connected by chain links. A name, _her_ name, _Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay_, was scrawled onto the plate in miniscule cursive with tiny emeralds dotting the _i_'s. This name was the reason she was in a castle in Scotland instead of with her parents in the States or with her grandparents in Italy.

All she ever wanted was to run from that name and everything it stood for. Running had taken her here where she was just Bella Vanderkay, promiscuous entrepreneur with O's in Arithmancy and Charms and a Poor in History of Magic. To these people, who knew nothing of the world she was from, she was normal; well, almost normal, maybe eccentric with her stripped stockings and bare feet.

Perhaps she couldn't run from everyone. There was one person who knew her birth title and legacy. He was the most important reason that she hated this piece of jewelry. She remembered with a sick taste what was inscribed upon the inside. _Lei appartiene a me, la piccola principessa -G_

In this castle that laid home to some of the most infamous heroes and villains of the last thousand years, there resided a girl whose tale was not of the norm. She didn't have an overly depressing upbringing nor did she endure the harsh childhood of a many siblings, but neither did she believe in the fairy tales that caused happy smiles and joyful laughs. She was someone that wanted to be remembered for her actions in life rather than the name she was given at birth.

"Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay," she whispered, her voice laden with a heavy accent that did not carry into her normal speech, as an olive toned finger traced lightly over the engraving on the bracelet. "I don't know you." And Hogwarts gladly swallowed her words into the all encompassing blanket of darkness.

* * *

Thanks to Princess Padfoot for being my muse and editor.

If you can't translate the Italian on her bracelet, all will be revealed soon enough.

Mini Moony

MM


	2. I To Turn a Profit

Resident Closet Explorer

I

To Turn a Profit

"Miss Vanderkay," Rose Weasley's head jerked back at the sharp sound of Henrick Henwick's voice. It took her a second to remember she was sitting in Advanced History of Magic and another to realize that her Professor's tone was not directed at her. Shifting minutely in her seat, the red-head could see Belladonna Vanderkay, her thick dark hair covering her from scalp to butt in soft waves, with her face planted on a table.

"What's it?" came the groggy response as the black hair fell to reveal droopy hazel eyes and a red line approximately the size of a text book binding across an otherwise unmarred forehead.

"Care to join the class?" The edge of mocking in his voice was ruined by the redness of his face. Hufflepuff, his former house, was not always known for hiding emotion.

"Sure, sure," she murmured lazily, "What subject are we studying?"

"The House-elf revolt of 1930's Italy," he glowered a vibrant crimson, which Rose secretly compared to one of her curls. The same color. "The same topic we have been on for the better half of a month. This _will_ be on the O.W.L.s."

"Right," Bella yawned largely, laying her head upon Bradley Christopher's shoulder. For his part, Bradley was stuck between looking smug at the beauty currently draped across his body and looking distraught at the glares he was receiving from his Professor. The rest of her apathetic reply was slightly muffled by his deltoid but distinctly sounded like, "Continue."

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Henwick's stinging reply caused Rose to flinch and adjust her green necktie. "For apparent lack of preparation for class. Maybe a bit more time sleeping and a bit less spent with fellows like our dear Mister Christopher and you might earn an O.W.L. or two."

Not even this insult roused Bella from her quiet dozing.

Ignoring everything in that general direction, the Professor continued class as if there had been no interruption. Soon, Albus, to her right, and Scorpius, to her left, answered three questions a piece earning thirty points for the House of Salazar and erasing the earlier blunder.

But as the class of fifth year Slytherins focused undivided attention on their previously peeved teacher, Rose couldn't help her blue eyes being drawn to her most colorful dorm mate. Belladonna Vanderkay was certainly a sight to behold. She had never in all the years of attendance and many detentions on the subject dressed in accordance with code. She wore the uniform of course but not necessarily up to par. Her white oxford was untucked, hanging haphazardly over her plaid green skirt, which was just a tad too short for Rose's taste, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a green tie loose in the collar. A bit of silver chain with dangling onyx hearts was draped about her waist. To complete the outfit, her legs were covered up to mid thigh in green and silver stripped stockings. No shoes or robes. Rose wasn't even sure of the reasoning behind that choice.

Bella's body sagged limply against Bradley in a distinct sleeping pattern except for the right hand which moved in slow scrawling movements across her green skirted lap. Rose leaned backward behind Scorpius to observe more closely. It appeared that Bella was writing on a parchment under the desk.

Class began to let out, startling the red head. Albus began gathering their books and notes (she would have to get his later). Scorpius took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Meanwhile, Bella leaned up to whisper into Bradley's ear. A rogue smile broke across his dark features before he ran from the room, tugging Bella by her tanned wrist. A scrap of parchment fluttered to the ground in their wake.

Rose waved off her male companions with a promise to catch up; slowly she crossed the class to look at the paper. It was written in Bella's handwriting and what was written was most peculiar. The ideal pen scratching was every answer to the questions Henwick asked.

What exactly was Belladonna playing at?

* * *

Dinner that evening was a rather boring affair. Albus sat blindfolded at Rose's right, not really eating anything as usual, sharpening his seeker skills by catching balls of paper she had enchanted to fly at him from different directions. Rose finished her third helping of pudding and leaned her shoulder against Scorpius, who smirked down at her ruefully.

"Spent most of the afternoon in that closet," the loud boasting of Bradley Christopher disturbed her peaceful moment. She could see him gesturing proudly to the shining emerald lip prints on his cheek. The obnoxious laughter of fifth and sixth year boys was grating on her nerves.

There were catcalls and wolf whistles as the topic of conversation strolled past the gathering of cavemen, with a wide smile and skewed stockings. Bella stopped for a brief but animated conversation with a group of older girls which resulted in her producing a small tube of purple lipstick to trade for one of the girl's coins. With a lingering smile, she continued on to the next group at the table, Rose's little trio.

Rose took in the other girl's appearance. Her shiny black curls were in a careful disarray around her olive toned face and rose tinged checks. The green speckled brown eyes were bright and sparkly. But, of all her features, what stood out clearest were her full lips which were painted Slytherin green, Bella's signature.

"Rose," Bella greeted warmly before launching into a sales pitch. "Care to buy a tube of Mark-Your-Man?" She raised a tube of crimson red lipshine as Rose raised an equally red eyebrow. "It comes in all eight house colors, purple passion, and tickle-me-pink. You can mark Scorpius as yours once and for all."

Scorpius stiffened under Rose's shoulder; she straightened as he tried to use his platinum locks to cover his pink cheeks and averted stony grey eyes. "Scorpius and I aren't together," Rose drawled in her "I'm a Slytherin and know how to use it" tone, her glacial blue glare fixed to Belladonna's face.

"Well then, perhaps a Broom Closet Directory," Bella smiled bright white teeth, bringing out a small parchment map with doorway lined in green, blue, and red. "All the broom closets in the castle. Green is empty, red occupied, and blue means a professor is close by. For quick snogs with random blokes between classes."

"Rose isn't that type of witch!" Scorpius's head snapped up with his roared statement. His hand smashed onto the table with a resounding smack.

"I still haven't quite gotten the charm to make it react sufficiently to prefects though," Bella continued as if not interrupted while Rose soothed Scorpius's abused hand between her own silently assuring him she wasn't offended.

"Bella, we are Prefects," Rose reminded her dorm mate sharply.

"Oh, then you won't mind the inferior model," the sales woman beamed.

"No, thank you," Rose replied curtly.

"Alright," still smiling, "Remember Resident Closet Explorer for all your dating and gift giving needs. I'm off to Gryffindor to see what young minds will think of my charming products."

"Stay away from my little brother," Scorpius said sternly. "The last thing I need is your _products_ corrupting Serpitius."

At the sound of Serpitius's name Albus jerked his blindfold up and was hit squarely in the forehead with an enchanted ball.

"Oh, I'm not the one corrupting him," Bella's hazel gaze on Albus as she took her leave.

"What does that mean?" Scorpius ran a hand hurriedly through his messy hair.

"No idea," Rose attempted to distract him as Albus schooled his fierce Weasley blush.

* * *

Thanks to my muse and editor and personal sanity, Princess Padfoot! And the hilarious conversation in my bed that led to Henrick Henwick and his very un-Hufflepuff features.

Please blame her for most of the good ideas I have! Next chapter coming soon, as in as soon as I translate some sentences into Italian!

Thanks again for Reading and Reviewing (if you do, I will smile!)

Mini Moony

MM


	3. II To the Blue, Blue Sky

Resident Closet Explorer

II

To Fly to the Blue Sky

'With eyes as black as midnight, you read my soul, where there resides but one word: Lo--'

"Argh," Albus Potter bellowed in frustration, receiving quite a few terrified glances from around the lunch table.

He ripped up the parchment in furious movements of his hands before casting a quick look at the object of his tawdry affair. Serpitius, who was staring at the scowling Slytherin with one carefully groomed eyebrow lifted in question, was getting his nails painted by Lily. They would most likely be black, Albus thought with a rueful smirk.

The fifth-year ran his hands over his face, pulling at his black hair in annoyance, and grabbing a fresh piece of parchment. He scribbled quickly in his spiked penmanship. 'Fix my hair? The usual place at afternoon break?' the scrap read as he folded it into a quick paper airplane. With a quick charm, the airplane went soaring for the Gryffindor's head. One lean muscled arm reached up and snatched it out of the sky. Seeker reflexes at work. Serpitius accented with a stiff nod to no one in particular.

"What's with the bits of paper?" Rose slid onto the bench at his left, pointing to the scraps of torn parchment scattered around Albus.1

"Some of us can't really express our emotions. Turns out writing is as hard as speech." Albus puffed at his fringe.

"Ah." Rose said in a knowing tone, the gleam in her blue eyes making Albus feel like a small child who just realized that blind people can't drive and was eagerly telling anyone who would listen.2

"Oh, shut it!" Albus cuffed at her head. "Let's go to Charms."

They arrived to the sight of Bella already in deep conversation with the professor. This was a sight that they had become well accustomed to. Bella may be Hogwarts best swindler, but she needed all the extra help she could get, thus the current scene in front of their eyes.1

* * *

As they exited Charms, Albus lingered on telling Rose and Scorpius that he had to check on a plant for his potions project. His companions bought the obvious lie and once out of sight, he quickly made his way to the Quidditch Pitch.1 Just as he was making his way towards Serpitius, who would undoubtedly be stationed under the Quidditch bleachers, he was grabbed and pulled into a nearby broom closet. The lock clicked into place as soon as the door shut.

"Albus," came a friendly drawl as he turned to see Belladonna Vanderkay leaning back on the windowsill.

"Bella," he replied evenly. "Care to open the door? I have an appointment."

"I would hardly think you need an appointment for what you do at the Pitch." Bella smiled faintly.

"How--" Albus was perplexed. They were so careful.

"When you spend half your life in a broom closet, you learn some things." She said with a smirk.

"Great," Albus puffed, his temper flaring. "Let-me-out."

"Sure," she said sweetly. "In twenty-five minutes."

"Then break will be over." Albus observed dryly.

"Exactly." Why was she always smiling?

"Great." He slumped down onto a box to wait it out. Serpitius would understand, he assured himself, once Albus told him that Bella was in one of her crazy moods. It was hard to get away from her when she was being utterly insane. He had had many experiences with Bella's insanity. Once she had pinned him to the ground and wouldn't let him go until he guessed what she was thinking. He spent three hours blabbing nonsense and finally he managed to guess what she was thinking of: broom closets.1

Twenty-three minutes passed in absolute silence as Albus fumed inwardly. Then he heard a sound that he had never before heard, Bella was singing out the long window.

"**Habataitara modorenai to itte. Mezashita no wa aoi, aoi ano sora. Aoi, aoi ano sora.**" It was scarcely audible and sang in such a haunted voice, that Albus wondered where Bella had gone inside herself. He couldn't quite place the language that he was sure was some sort of Asian.

"What language is that?" Albus inquired in a whisper that seemed to break the edges of Bella reprieve.

"Japanese," she answered in a low voice. "A boy I knew in Japan used to sing it to me."

"You lived in Japan?" He had never really heard anything about her home life; no one had, that he knew of. Bella kept to herself mostly, except of course when she was trying to sell stock to the many eager hands of Hogwartians.1

"For a little while," her voice was distant. "After England, Italy, Norway, and Greenland, but before Romania, China, Germany, Canada, and the States."

"You _lived_ in all those places?" This piqued his interest, making his voice raise slightly in volume.

"Oh," Bella snapped out of her daze with that smile snapping back into place. "Yea, before Scotland, of course."

"What does it mean? The song?" He was slightly unnerved by that plastic smile of hers.

"It means, 'You say if you could fly, you'd never come back down. You only have eyes for that blue, blue sky. For that blue, blue sky.'" Her eyes glanced at the sky she had stared at for the entire break. Now that he thought about it, Albus was sure that she looked at the enchanted ceiling more than anyone he knew.

Finally, she pulled a silver gilded pocket watch attached to the chain swinging from her too short skirt. He caught a glimpse of the front as she was reading the time; it depicted a beautiful fairy with long hair that pooled around her feet and wings that jutted out from her back. There were words inscribed over her head to small for him to read and XIII was written on the fairy's head band. As Albus rose to his feet to get a closer look, Bella spoke. "Time's up!"

He felt it in a flash; the cold feeling of the spell fell over him as his limbs locked. Albus was frozen. She had hit him without his even seeing a wand. Bloody Charms-know-it-all!

"Stay still," she said unnecessarily when she was a mere breath away from his face. "This won't hurt a bit."

Albus clenched his emerald eyes shut, the spell allowing at least that much movement, just before he felt her lips connect with his right cheek. Then there were breathy words hot on the shell of his ear. "Love is the most forgiving sin of the heart."

The door opened and closed. She was gone; he was free, but he knew the damage was undoubtedly clear on his face.

* * *

A little first year boy slammed against the stone floor as Albus stomped his way into the common room. He stopped directly in front of where Rose and Scorpius sat on a green loveseat with both their heads in one text book.

There was a set of perfect green lip prints on one cheek, a purple bruise marring the other, and red-purple marks littering his neck, leading into the ripped collar of his vintage Weird Sisters tee. His eyes spelled 'danger' to all questioning expressions.

"Rose," Albus gritted out between his teeth, causing both Scorpius and Rose to look up in surprise. "I need you."

"Al, did you manage to get away from your rabid fans?" The blonde attempted to stifle his laughter as the merriment played in the storm of his grey eyes. "Looks like you were mauled by a bunch of fourth year girls." This being an inside joke between them. See Albus was very well known for being the son of famous Harry Potter. He also was handsome and had filled out during the previous summer.1

"Rose," Albus clenched his fists in anger. "Now!" He dashed into the tapestry covered alcove.

"I better go," He heard Rose whisper to Scorpius.

Once behind the safety of the tapestry and secrecy charms, Rose started her inquisition. "What else did he do to you?" She was concerned for her best friend's physical status.

"Well," Albus fiddled ideally with the hem of his shirt. "After he slapped me across the face (I may have deserved that.), left twenty-four 'love bites' (He made me count them!), and tore my shirt (My favorite shirt! Uncle Bill gave me this shirt! It is from the Eighties! The _19_80s!), he um…" He trailed off and stared at the ground embarrassedly.

"Alright, off with it." Before Albus even had a chance to reply, she had yanked the shirt over his head.

The abuse he had suffered was clearly written all over his back in huge crimson letters. Literally. 'Property of Serpitius Salazar Malfoy' shined proudly against his tan skin. "Do you know what this says?" Rose had to work to smother her giggles.

"He got the front, too." Albus's voice was low and reserved as he turned to face her. Beneath the bite marks that traveled much lower than the collar of his shirt had allowed visible, there was more red letters and in a rectangle. It was a 'NOT for Sale by Owner' sign written over his smooth chest with 'SSM' circling his navel. Below his belly button was an arrow that followed the trail of hair coming out of his jeans waist band. The point of the arrow descended further than most cousins care to think about. "He, er, got lower… but I'm not showing you what else he wrote!"

"Why is it dirty?" Rose laughed out.

"You know it is!" Albus flushed darker than her auburn hair. "Now, shut up and help me!"

"Mark-Your-Man?" She mused, biting her lower lip.

"Yea," he smirked with glazed over eyes. "Said I was his man. Why can't I just say stupid, honest things? Lucky little Gryffindors." He brushed his fingers lightly over his injured cheek and pulled lightly on his hair moving it from casual disarray to its natural chaos. "Can you get it off?"

"Um…" She thought before sighing. "I'm sorry, Ally. Bella is just too good at Charms. I'm afraid only Serpitius can remove it."

"Ugh," Albus exclaimed throwing his arms up in defeat. "He said he would take it off in two weeks, after I 'learned my lesson'. Two weeks! How am I going to change? What about Quidditch? If Scorpius sees this, he will string me up! I will be dead and buried with this lipstick all over my body." He was ranting as he tossed the ripped shirt over his head.

"Maybe Bella can help you out? It is her product and her fault after all." Rose was brilliant!

"Now, that's why I love you, Rosy!" Albus brushed his lips across her cheek on his way out of the alcove.

As he came into the center of the room, Belladonna strolled in past the skulls on her way to the girl's stairwell. His hand shot up, poised for finger pointing, while he called, "Bella!"

This is when many things happened at once. Giovanni Cavaliere, seventh-year gorgeous (olive complexion, dark features, lovely green-brown eyes; not really Albus's type but still beautiful) Prefect, bounded up the last few stairs leading to the boy's dorm, pushed Albus out of the way, and proceeded to get closer to Belladonna until there was less than six inches between their faces. "What have you done?" His deep voice told of early years in a foreign land.

"What I do is none of your business, Giovanni!" Bella shot back, standing firm to her ground.

"_Certo è i miei affari._ (Of course it is my business.)" With a quick look around, Giovanni switched languages. He fell into it with the type of familiarity that one ties shoes or sings a nursery rhyme. This was his native tongue, Albus was sure of, but the language itself he was unsure of. Something of a Latin derivative, Spanish or perhaps Italian?

"_Non rispondo a lei, Cavaliere di Belvedere di Antonio di Giovanni!_ (I do not answer to you, Giovanni Antonio Belvedere Cavaliere!)" Bella was just as fluent in the trips and vowels of the dialect, though Albus could never remember her ever speaking with an accent of any kind, not even British.

"_Lei risponde a me!_ (You do answer to me!)" He grabbed at her wrist, his hand closing around a silver bracelet.

"_Lei non è mio marito!_ (You are not my husband!)" Her voice rang through the common room. People from every year were gathering to look at the argument.

"_Sarò presto abbastanza! O l'ha l'Italia dimenticato completamente, la Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay, il Tredicesimo--_ (I will be soon enough! Or have you forgotten Italy completely, Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay, Thirteenth--)" His intoxicating was not allowed to continue as her unrestrained hand contacted with his cheek.

"_Fare non lei osa! Lei ha dimenticato il Giappone, Gio? Che è successo a quel ragazzo che cantava me per dormire ed aiutarmi fugge le classi? Dove lei è andato, Giovanni?_ (Don't you dare! Have you forgotten Japan, Gio? What happened to that boy that used to sing me to sleep and help me escape classes? Where did you go, Giovanni?)" There was a glimmer of tears in Bella's green speckled honey eyes as she caressed his injured cheek.

"_Sono cresciuta, Belle! Sono ritornato all'Italia mentre lei è corso da me! Quel ragazzo che lei ha saputo è morto! E non importa come lontano lei corre, lei sarà sempre la Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay!_ (I grew up, Belle! I went back to Italy while you ran from me! That boy you knew is dead! And no matter how far you run, you will always be Belladonna Maria Gabriella de Constantina Vanderkay!)" Giovanni's voice reached a new high as his face flamed in anger.

"_Non posso essere quella ragazza! Rinuncio il mio titolo! Il mio nome! _(I cannot be that girl! I renounce my title! My name!) I am Belladonna Vanderkay American Commoner!" Bella switched languages seamlessly as if she had never had a native tongue.

"_Lei non può fare ciò! Non la consentirò a!_ (You cannot do that! I will not allow you to!)" Gio appeared desperate somehow as far as Albus could interpret.

"_Ho già._ (I have already.)" Bella undid the clasp of her bracelet, letting it and Giovanni's hand fall from her wrist as she once again switched vernaculars. This one made even Giovanni's brows furrow in confusion. "Ja sozhaleju, Dzhovanni. Ja ljublju Vas. {I'm sorry, Giovanni. I love you.}" She strode past him on her way to the dorms.

"_Puttana!_ (Whore!)" Giovanni bit out one last comment to her back that no one understood.

"Slytherin." Belladonna replied simply before descending the stairs to her room, leaving a very confused English speaking common room behind her, Albus still with his finger raised in the air.

**

* * *

Japanese**

_Italian_ (Translation)

Russian {Translation}

1From the inner workings of Princess Padfoot's mind!

2From Princess Padfoot's Sister… Let's call her MistressComplainer! MC!

Please bear in mind that the common room is full of English speakers and I translated to save you guys time and energy!

The lyrics used in this chapter are from Ikimono Gakari's Blue Bird; I love that song! As always specific thanks to Princess Padfoot for editing and typing when I couldn't get past my typing block. Thanks to all my reviewers! I love you guys!

The next chapter is story boarded (in pen on my arm) and half pencil written. It shouldn't be that long of a wait!

Surprise note that not even PP saw before post! Happy Five Years of Best Friendship! You keep me sane and I can never repay you enough for the multiple pushes and shoves in the right direction you give me! I love you with the fiery passion of ten thousand burning Nova Suns! Here's to at least a Hundred more just like the last five! Ducky, PP!

Until next time,

Mini Moony

MM


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